


The Best All Burn Out So Bright and So Fast

by lo_lolita



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Body Dysmorphia, Body Image, Coming Out, Daddy Issues, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Incest, Trans Luther Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lo_lolita/pseuds/lo_lolita
Summary: "But d'you, d'you remember the first time I broke a rib binding, Dad?" Luther asks the empty courtyard, and huffs out a bitter laugh. "You blamed me."
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	The Best All Burn Out So Bright and So Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I have feelings. The Luther/Five, unsurprisingly, snuck in without my permission.
> 
> I wasn't sure about the underage label, but Five is technically in his younger body, so. Shrug.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Titled after Black Me Out by Against Me!

Slowly but surely, Luther becomes more of a real live person than he ever was when he actually looked like one.

He likes fighting, but not out of any desire to cause pain. Likes the strategy of it, the exertion, the adrenaline.

He likes Tiffany and David Bowie and Fleetwood Mac. Likes laying in bed for hours and only getting up intermittently to swap out one record for another.

He likes learning more about space than he already knows. Likes reading about deep space, about black holes, about string theory and the multiverse and the vastness of existence. 

He likes getting drunk in the courtyard at 3AM and ranting to the ashes of his long-dead father about how much he _sucked,_ actually.

"... God, dad, you _hated_ us. You never wanted kids. It was just, it was just _cruel_ for you to adopt us, you know that?" Luther brings the bottle of bourbon in his hand to his mouth, but much to his displeasure, he finds it empty. He sighs and drops backward onto the ground, not even wincing at the way his head bangs against the concrete in the process.

"You only ever did one good thing for me, you know," Luther says quietly, looking at the moon through the brown glass of the empty bottle. "You... You understood how important transitioning was to me. Even if you made me work twice as hard as everyone else just to prove I was worth it. All the time and effort, the hormones, the — the surgery." He swallows hard and closes his eyes. The bottle slips from his hand and shatters on the concrete in a pile of glittering glass. Oh, well. Mom will clean it up tomorrow.

"But d'you, d'you remember the first time I broke a rib binding, Dad?" Luther asks the empty courtyard, and huffs out a bitter laugh. "You blamed me. Told me if I wanted what I wanted, I'd have to deal with the consequences. And I did, Dad. I did. So many times, over and over. They — the only family I have left _hates_ me now, and the worst part is that it's not even all your goddamn fault!"

Luther slams his fist into the ground, only realizing his mistake several seconds later when he registers that he's bleeding. Ah, fuck. The shattered glass.

"I gave up one body I hated for an even worse one," Luther says dully, lifting his hand and blinking slowly at the shards of glass digging into the leathery skin, the dark blood dripping onto his shirt. He sighs.

"Luther?" someone says, and when he looks around the courtyard to find the source of the voice, he's surprised to see that Five is the one addressing him. Five has an odd expression on his face that Luther can't read, not as drunk as he is. Probably couldn't read even if he was sober, actually, given that until a month ago he hadn't even seen his brother since they were fourteen.

"Hey, Five," Luther says, forcing a smile that looks exactly as fake as it is. "Hey, buddy. What're you doin' up?"

"Jesus," Five mutters, wrinkling his nose as he draws closer. "You're wasted, aren't you? Come on, big guy. You're bleeding."

"No," Luther says stubbornly. Once Five is in arm's reach, he reaches out and tugs his brother down beside him — thankfully on the side without the shattered glass. Five sputters indignantly, but he doesn't teleport away, so Luther takes that as a win. Five sits up and brushes himself off, frowning down at the smear of blood around his own wrist.

"You're bleeding," Five repeats. Luther shrugs. "Who were you talking to out here?"

Luther laugh bitterly and lays down again. This time, he closes his eyes instead of looking at the moon. "Dad," he replies simply.

Five sighs. "Luther..."

"Do you remember when we were little?" Luther interrupts abruptly. "I mean, _really_ little. Like, four."

Five frowns down at him, drawing his knees up to his chest. The fact that he's staying put at all is a miracle, Luther realizes distantly, but he's certainly not going to question it. "Bits and pieces. I don't think about it much. Why?"

Luther smiles, but it's broken and bitter. "I don't know if anyone remembers except me, Mom, and Pogo. Either everyone forgot, or they're surprisingly good at pretending they all did." He exhales slowly. "It's a good thing Mom didn't give us names until we were teenagers, or I'd be... Fuckin'... Luise, or something."

Five's brow stays furrowed for several seconds. Then realization dawns on him, and he raises his eyebrows slowly, shifting to face Luther more fully. "No, I — you're saying...? This whole time...?"

Luther opens his eyes. He turns his head to look at Five and shrugs one big shoulder. "Dad finally let me go on hormone blockers when I was twelve, but I still had to bind all through our teens. I thought for sure someone had noticed."

"But you have..." Five's gaze flickers downward, toward Luther's crotch. Luther laughs.

"All the things Dad was capable of, and that surprises you?" Luther asks. He sits up on one elbow, pushing a hand through his hair. He's never let it get this long, but he thinks he's starting to like it. "I know we all had a chip on our shoulder when it came to Dad, but, uh. I'm pretty sure I got the biggest one."

"Jesus, Luther," Five says, and when he reaches out to rest a hand on Luther's knee, Luther suddenly realizes he's drunk, too. Five doesn't particularly like to touch people, at least not sober, but when he's drunk? All bets are off. "I didn't... I must have forgotten. Fuck. You must have practically killed yourself trying to pass."

"There were a few fainting spells and broken ribs, yeah," Luther says, dropping his own big hand — the uninjured one — on top of Five's. He gives it a little squeeze. Five, surprisingly, doesn't try to pull it away; he seems distracted, even bothered. "Hey, it's okay. I didn't _want_ anyone to remember, Five."

Five goes quiet, then, and eventually, his gaze turns to the moon. Luther follows suit.

"I was really proud of my body," Luther says after a minute or two, voice quiet. "I finally looked exactly how I wanted to. And then... Then. Well."

Five's hand twitches underneath his. He looks over to Luther again. "I think I know what you mean. At least a little."

Luther sighs. "Yeah, I guess you'd get it better than anyone, huh?" He leans in a little closer to Five, not entirely sure what he's doing, and Five leans in, too, and then —

And then they're kissing.

It's gentle at first, hesitant, but Five takes the lead and pushes his tongue into Luther's mouth insistently. Luther makes a surprised noise, but he doesn't try to pull away. He lets Five kiss him and does his best to keep up. But then he raises his free hand to try and cup Five's jaw, and, oh yeah. There's still glass embedded in his skin, tacky blood drying on his skin. Luther winces and pulls away.

"Shit," Five mutters when he realizes what the problem is. He gets to his feet, but before Luther can panic, Five nods toward the door that leads inside. "C'mon, Spaceboy. Let's clean you up."

They'll have to talk about that kiss later, Luther thinks. But for now, a bandage and a glass of water sounds good. He stands, and Five takes his uninjured hand in his own like it's just something they do now.

Maybe, Luther thinks — hopes — maybe it can be.


End file.
